Once Upon a Time...

Another script..

2006-12-03T18:10:00.000-08:00

Here's a comedy duet I wrote for state drama:

“Apocalypse, Now?”

Characters

Mike

A neurotic 35 year-old. Blond-haired and extremely skinny.

Freddy

Fat 35 year-old comic book nerd. Pretty absent minded.

Time

Maybe tomorrow, maybe today.

Place

The inside of Mike’s bomb shelter.

Setting

After a nuclear apocalypse.
2 Person Scene (Don’t have a title for it yet.)

(Two guys sit on the floor of a bomb shelter, playing a card game. The room has a ladder, which leads up to the surface, two beds, a huge stack of canned goods, and a smallish TV. One of the guys, Mike is a nervous looking fellow with blond hair, and a scruff of a beard. The other guy, Freddy, is a slightly overweight bald guy with large glasses. A whiteboard reads: DAYS AFTER THE BOMB: 3.)

MIKE. Alright, do you have any ones?

FREDDY. Maybe.

MIKE. (Exasperated) That isn’t how the game works. If you have ones, you give them to me. If you don’t, you say, ‘go fish’.

FREDDY. Oh. Okay.

MIKE. Do you have any ones?

(Freddy throws his cards up in the air and runs over to his bunk. He lies down.)

MIKE. (Setting his cards down, a look of contained fury on his face.) Well, it’s been three days since the bombs went off up there. Think anyone is still alive?

FREDDY. Do you think it’s true that a cockroach can survive a nuclear blast?

MIKE. What does that have to do with the question I just asked?

FREDDY. I bet they could, being—

MIKE. (Standing up.) You are a moron! I could have brought the super-hot model from next door, you know—repopulated the earth and everything—but no, I had to bring the 35 year old comic book nerd who still lives with his parents! I was thinking with the wrong mindset, I was thinking I should have brought my childhood friend, when I should have been thinking about the human race.

FREDDY. You’re not very nice.

(Freddy stands up and walks over to his little bed, he lies down, and begins talking.)

FREDDY. Dear diary, today, Mike was mean to me, and I was sad. I—

MIKE. Oh come on….

FREDDY. I wish he would be nicer to me, because I would rather be happy than sad.

MIKE. I hate you.

(He stands up.)

MIKE. You know what, I think I would rather be out there then stuck in here with you. I guess it took a nuclear holocaust to show me what an idiot you were.

(He climbs up the ladder.)

FREDDY. P.S. Diary, I think Mike is mad at me.

(A few seconds later, Mike is climbing back down the ladder. He turns around, and there is a giant cockroach attached to his face.)

MIKE. Don’t say a word.

Fade out

(Now we see the same scene as before, except Freddy has hair on his head, and has a slight beard. Mike has a full beard. The whiteboard reads: DAYS AFTER THE BOMB: 68. They are both lying on their beds. Their supplies of canned goods are diminished.)

FREDDY. You know, I’m really starting to miss my comic books.

MIKE. (Sarcastically) Well, I am sorry that you can’t go get them, seeing as how your house has been vaporized and all.

FREDDY. I try and picture what Fantast-O-Man would do in this situation.

MIKE. It’s like we are on a whole different wavelength. Do you even listen to what I say?

FREDDY. He would probably do something involving the Fantast-O-Jet, or the Fantast-O-Mobile. Yeah.

(There is an awkward silence for a couple seconds.)

FREDDY. Mike?

MIKE. Yes?

FREDDY: Do post-apocalyptic androids dream of post-apocalyptic electric sheep?

MIKE. Please God, take me now.

Fade out

(Same scene as the last two, but now there are no cans of food left. The empty cans are in a huge pile in the middle of the room. The whiteboard reads: DAYS AFTER THE BOMB: 145. Freddy has a can in his hand.)

MIKE. Well, that was the last can of food. Nice job, lard-butt! Now we’re out of food! What’re we going to do!?

(Freddy looks over at Mike, a huge grin on his face.)

MIKE. Oh no.

Fade out

OMGROTFLMAO!

2006-11-27T20:20:00.000-08:00

Whee, check this sucker out: 803 studios

I am now a published writer.

Script!

2006-11-25T14:54:00.000-08:00

Here's a script for an one-act play, It is going to compete at the state drama competition.

Characters

James Edwards: Just your every day average joe. He is middle-aged, about 45. Brown hair, about 5’9”.

Lisa Edwards: James’s daughter. Blond-haired, pretty good looking. She seems very frail, as if the smallest trouble affects her.

Charlie Edwards: James’s son. A very strong looking young man. He is the polar opposite of Lisa, having trouble voicing the way he feels.

Narrator: A mysterious figure. Just an average looking man, dressed in a business suit. He represents a higher power, the unknown.

Extras

Judge

Policemen

Guard

Audience members for trial

Time

Sometime in the near future.

Place

Somewhere in the United States.

Setting

A jail cell, a house, a courtroom, and an execution room.

The Last Execution – 1 Act

(The stage lights are off.)

NARRATOR. (off stage) On October 29, 2008, the death penalty is forever abolished. Today is October 26, 2008.

(We see a man lying on a cot in a small cell; the cell contains a toilet, a sink with a mirror, and a small cot. He is a medium-sized man, not muscular, but not fat, pretty average looking, around age 45. His head is shaved bald. He is staring up at the ceiling. The narrator, a man with perfectly cropped black hair and wearing a black business suit, stands outside of the bars of the cell. He is not known to the inmate. There is a digital clock; it reads 10:00PM)

NARRATOR. At 12:01 AM, James Remus Edwards will face the electric chair for crimes he did not commit. Nothing can save him, steer him from his fate. But he goes to his death without fear, without protest. (James sits up, and puts his head in his hands.) He remembers…

Fade out

(Now we see the inside of a house, a small hallway to be exact. There is a door, and several open doorframes in the set.)

(James enters through the front door. He is wearing a coat, and is carrying a briefcase.)

JAMES. (As he is saying this, he is hanging up his coat.) Hon, I’m home! Are you still up for that movie tonight?

JAMES. (He is walking through the first open doorframe.) Honey?

JAMES. (From inside the doorframe.) Oh, God! (He disappears from sight.)

(A couple of seconds later, he comes back through the frame, carrying his wife in his arms. He has a knife in his hand, there is a bloody stain on her shirt. James is crying)

JAMES. (Slumping to the ground.) No..no..no..it..can’t… (he sets her on the ground.)

JAMES. (Pulling a cell phone out of his pocket, he fumblingly dials 911) Hello, police…my wife’s…she’s… (Sob)…murdered! (He hangs up.)

(James walks to a wall, sits down, cradling himself up in a ball. He is silent now, the knife held limply in his left hand. His hands are covered with blood.)

(Sirens are heard. A couple of seconds later, two policemen break through the door.)

POLICEMAN 1. FREEZE! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!

(Fade out)

(We see James seated in courtroom. He hangs his head low as he sits, handcuffed. Those in attendance are out for blood, screaming and pointing at him. The judge, a hawkish looking woman, is fire and brimstone as she pounds the gavel and points. All of this action is silent, everything is pantomimed. Only the narrator, who comes on stage from the left, speaks.)

NARRATOR. He says he found his wife dead. No one believes him. The prosecution shows evidence of a life insurance policy, and the judge is sold. Quickly, he is condemned. Nothing he says can save him.

(Now the audience is not muted anymore, they are shouting. The judge screams:

JUDGE. You disgust me, Mr. Edwards! (Stands) I find you guilty of murder in its highest degree!

(Fade out)

(As the scene fades back in, we see the jail cell again. James is lying on his back on his bed. The clock reads 3:00 PM. His arms are crossed behind his head. Footsteps are heard. Then Charlie and Lisa, James’ two children walk in front of his cell. Lisa leans on the bars, Charlie stays back, arms crossed.)

LISA. Dad!

JAMES. (Rising) Kids!

LISA. Charlie and I flew in as soon as we heard…how could they have come to a ruling so soon? (Beginning to get choked up.)

JAMES. People want blood; they want the last recorded execution to be a quick affair, not a slow, arduous process.

CHARLIE. (Vehemently) Maybe it should be quick.

LISA. Charlie!

CHARLIE. Was it all a farce, dad? What was the purpose of all those ‘principles’ you taught me? (His voice rises in tempo as he says this)

JAMES. Charlie, I—

CHARLIE. What dad, what? The evidence is not in your favor, not in the least! What could you possible say that would absolve you of this? What!?

JAMES. I—

LISA. Stop it Charlie!

CHARLIE. (shouting): The death penalty is better than this filth deserves. I cannot believe—

JAMES. (Interrupting) Charlie! I didn’t—

CHARLIE. (Shouting) YOU KILLED MOM…FOR MONEY!

(He stomps off the stage.)

JAMES. Charlie! Come back!

(Lisa continues to cry. James gets a faraway look on his face.)

JAMES. I remember when you were a little girl, and you killed a spider. It was an accident, but you cried and cried. You felt awful for ending such a small life…

LISA. (Still crying) Daddy, if you tell me that you didn’t do this, I’ll believe you.

JAMES. I didn’t do it.

LISA. (Leans up against the bars, crying.) I know.

(Fade out)

(As the lights come on we see the cell again. James is standing at the sink in his cell, looking at the mirror. The narrator walks to the side of the cell, no one sees him, he will stay on for the entirety of the scene.)

NARRATOR. It is 11:45 P.M, and James Edwards will die by electrocution in sixteen minutes.

GUARD. (Off-stage) Edwards! Got visitors!

(Charlie and Lisa enter. Lisa runs, Charlie slowly walks on stage.)

LISA. We came to say goodbye.

JAMES. (jokingly) Well, I’m going down in history. Last guy to be executed.

(Lisa and James laugh nervously.)

GUARD. (Walking on stage) All right Edwards, time to get you ready. Let’s go.

(He opens the cell door, James walks by, Lisa gives him a kiss as he goes. Charlie remains stoic. James is now gone, Lisa runs off stage, crying. Charlie stays there, staring off after his father. It’s as if he wants to say something, but can’t.)

CHARLIE. (almost whispering) Goodbye, dad.

(Fade out)

(James is now in a small execution chamber. There is the chair, a toggle, and a very high window, almost touching the ceiling. A shaft of moonlight comes through it. We see James getting strapped into an electric chair by two burly guards.)

JAMES. (singing) Have you heard about the lonesome loser…

(They back away from him, one of them walks out of the room.)

JAMES. (singing) …beaten by the Queen of Hearts every time…

(The exectutioner’s hand goes to a toggle on the wall)

JAMES. (singing) …he’s a loser but he keeps on trying.

(The toggle is flipped and the lights go out. When they come back on, there is a white staircase. The cell can be made out in the background. Charlie holds Lisa in the background, she sobs into his chest. The narrator, dressed in his black suit, and James, dressed in a white suit, comes back onto the stage. The narrator’s arm is around James’ shoulder, who is wearing all white. They walk across the stage, and up the staircase.)

JAMES. (about halfway up the staircase) I hope they’ll be all right.

NARRATOR. I hope so too. I hope for all of them.

(Fade out)

2006-10-17T21:02:00.000-07:00

Here's a little comic script I wrote for a contest:

PAGE 1

Panel 1: We see an athletic 35 year-old man sitting on a toilet in an airplane bathroom, he is not using the toilet, and he is fully clothed. He wears a green t-shirt and blue jeans. He has a chiseled face, and his head is in his hands.

CAPTION

My name is James Tyler, and I’m about to do the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my 15 years at the Central Intelligence Agency.

Panel 2: He is now standing, looking at himself in the mirror.

CAPTION

I have disarmed nuclear bombs; taken down terrorist cells. But do I have what it takes for this?

Panel 3: We see a closer view of his reflection in the mirror. He has bright blue eyes.

CAPTION

…and what if I fail?

Panel 4: We see a close-up of his hand using the little doorknob thingy. There is a little red sign that says, “OCCUPIED”.

CAPTION

Well…

Panel 5: We see now that the knob thingy has been turned, and the sign now says, “VACANT”.

SFX
SHCKK!

CAPTION
…that isn’t an option.

PAGE 2

Panel 1: Full page panel. We see James standing with the door open. There is a line of about 5 men, the one in front is tapping his foot.

JAMES

Sorry…

PAGE 3

Panel 1: We now see a close-up of James’s feet as he walks down the isle.

Panel 2: Now we see a side view of him walking, he has a grim look on his face. We can see other passengers reading, sleeping, and eating bags of peanuts.

Panel 3: We see James from a back view as he walks.

Panel 4: Now we a close up of his hand on an armrest.

PAGE 4

Panel 1: Now we see him sitting in a seat. He is pretty worried looking.

CAPTION
Row 18, Seat A.

Panel 2: Now we see a close-up of his eye. It is kind-of narrowed.

Panel 3: Close up of his mouth, pretty tense-lipped.

Panel 4: Now we see his torso and head. He is breathing out a breath of air.

CAPTION

Alright. Go time.

PAGE 5

Panel 1: We see a full view of him and the seat next to him. A pretty, Hispanic looking woman sits next to him, reading a magazine. James is pointing his fingers at her in a gun-like shape.

JAMES

Hey, I..I..saw you, and you’re pretty good looking…so would you…you know, like to go on a date with me?

Panel 2: We see the woman looking over at him from the magazine she was reading.

WOMAN

¿Qué dijiste?

End.

My first little story.

2006-10-16T19:40:00.000-07:00

I have a bajillion little stories and scripts on my computer, and I'll start off with a little one I wrote a few months ago:

Jim lie in a hospital bed, the sheets folded neatly over his comatose body. His mother, Catherine, sat and stared at the drawn, thin face of her son.

It’s been six months, it’s time to let go.

“No.” she said, almost pleadingly.

He’s never going to wake up.

Catherine leaned in towards her son.

“I won’t give up on you Jim, I can’t give up on you.”

Jim sat in his room. Everything in his room had an ethereal white glow, except for a large black door.

As long as I stay in here, I’m safe, nothing bad can happen. Nothing.

Jim was warm in his room, he had a blanket, a cot; he never was hungry, he never got sick.

That door, that’s where the bad things are. But I’m alright, as long as I stay here.

He had no one to talk to except for the man dressed in black, who came in through the door. The man would try to get Jim to leave the room, but Jim wouldn’t. Jim could have sworn he had seen the man somewhere before. He didn’t worry though. He never got very lonely in his room. He was safe here. Then, the large, ornate handle on the black door began to turn.

Why won’t he leave me alone?

Catherine felt hunger gnawing at her stomach. With a strong maternal glance back at her comatose son, she left for the cafeteria. As she half walked, half stumbled down the immaculately clean hallways of St. Mary’s Hospital, the thoughts wouldn’t leave her.

He’s gone, he’s never coming back. Face the facts; no one can recover from a blow to the head like that. You’re going to have to pull the plug.

Catherine shook her head, and shambled on to the cafeteria.

As the door began to open, Jim curled into a ball on his cot and pulled the covers over his head. The oddly familiar man came in. A black chair materialized on the floor in front of Jim. Casually, the man sat down in it.

“Hello again.” said the man, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“What do you want from me!?” squealed Jim, pulling the blankets tighter around himself.

The man glanced about the room.

“Are you happy here? Tell me honestly.”

“What?”

“I said, are you happy here? It’s a simple question.”

“I’m safe here.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Jim tightened even more in his ball, and said nothing.

“Jim, do you ever wonder what’s outside the room?” asked the man.

“No.”

“I’ve seen it. It’s amazing.”

Jim gave an involuntary shudder, and then, ever so slightly, peeked through his blanket.

“What’s it like?” He said, in a tentative whisper.

“Full.”

“Huh?”

“That’s all I can tell you. The rest you’ll have to find out for yourself.”

He stood from the chair and turned to leave.

“But I’m afraid; there may be bad things out there!”

“It’s your choice. I won’t force you.”

“But—“

“There’s one thing you should know before I leave though. Out there—“he pointed to the door. “Is a game that we’re not expected to win. It’s a game we were meant to lose. But, if we give it our best shot, we come out winners, no matter what.”

With that, he turned and left the room.

Catherine looked at he son.

He used to be such a strapping young man, and look at what he’s become. A mere shell of his former self. It’s almost a crime to let him live like this.

She remembered; it had been a hot August day. The magnolias were in bloom. She had been watching Oprah when the call came in. Apparently some junkie had come into the store where Jim worked and demanded money. Jim, always the tough 17 year-old, had refused. The junkie pulled a gun and shot him through the shoulder, causing him to fall back onto a countertop and bash his head. They later found the junkie in an alleyway muttering gibberish. He died a month later. Catherine looked down at her feet.

It’s time.

She stood, gave a futile glance at Jim, like somehow he would spring back to life and ask, “Hey Ma’, what’s for breakfast?” She walked out of the room to find the doctor.

Jim uncurled from his bed, and put his feet down on the floor.

I’ll just look, what the worst that could happen?

Almost gliding to the doorway, he touched the doorknob and—

Catherine came in with the doctor.

“Are you ready?” asked the doctor.

“Yes.” her face didn’t betray the emotion she was feeling inside.

The doctor’s hand reached down and removed the breathing tube and the IV. Catherine made no move to look away.

I’ve got to be strong for him. I’ve got to.

Pain! Excruciating pain! The most pain Jim had ever felt in his life. And he couldn’t take his hand off the door handle.

Oh GOD! Just let me DIE! PLEASE!

No.

Make it end! PLEASE!

Leave Jim, just go through the door. Just go.

I can’t! It’s too much!

You can, and you will.

Mustering strength that he never knew he had, Jim focused on the doorknob. He pulled the door open, and drained, fell through it. As he fell into the blackness of the unknown, he looked back and saw the man in black. He recognized him now. It was himself.

Catherine sat near her son’s body, the last of life leaving it. She stood to go. Suddenly, she heard sharp intakes of breath. Turning, she saw her emaciated son sitting on the bed, a great smile upon his face. He said:

“He was right!”